a couple of quotes:
“One afternoon, a group of children stop playing to ask me whether I wish to enter Islam to go to heaven. “No? Then you cannot go to heaven.” Another day I wear pink instead of black. A boy spits on me.”
“Perhaps he passed the boy who travels a mile to obtain a fresh bottle of water for me when his shop runs out—sprinting the whole way—and sweetly responds to my thanks: “You are welcome, my sister.” Or the cook who gives me a chair hidden from the strong gaze of men chewing qat. Or the motorcyclists narrowly missing the small boys selling tiny bottles of perfume in cardboard boxes on the ground. In the poorest country in the Arab world, would Abdulmutallab have noticed the gentle smile of the cook as he hands me fresh bread at no cost?”